


son of whizzer

by cosmickirk



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Gen, baseball and talking about crushes and such, i love whizzer and jason more than i love myself, there's no relationship tag for them im gonna lose my mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 04:09:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11592633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmickirk/pseuds/cosmickirk
Summary: i love whizzer and jason's relationship & that's really all there is to it folks





	son of whizzer

Life is mysterious sometimes. Whizzer knows this from too much experience, but even _he_ couldn't predict the baseball game leading to... all this.

The last three months have been so surreal they feel like a dream, like watching his life pass through a kaleidoscope. He and Marvin fall back together naturally, without much fuss or drama, as if the two-year radio silence had somehow, impractically, always been leading to their reunion. They spend large swaths of their days holed up in Whizzer's apartment, making up for all that damned lost time. They commit themselves to relearning the planes and curves of each other's bodies, mapping the new freckles on Whizzer's torso, the new firmness of Marvin's. The sex is even better this time around, largely because _they_ are better. Less rough and volatile. More likely to kiss, and look each other in the eye. It's all very tender. Very sating. And Whizzer catches himself sometimes doing laundry and smiling stupidly for no reason, or whistling as he walks down the street. A baseline of contentment. How strange.

Stranger still is how easily he slips back into the fabric of the family as a whole, how naturally he resumes his short but loving rapport with Trina and how happy he is to listen to Mendel's sweetly neurotic ramblings. He's washing dishes after a dinner at Trina and Mendel's, listening to the idle post-meal talk in the living room, the adoring things Mendel will whisper into Trina's hair, the way Jason makes them all laugh, even Marvin, and Whizzer feels a stirring in his chest, one that he hasn't felt in... well... one that he hasn't felt in almost two years. Jason delivers the punchline to a story about his baseball coach riding a mechanical bull to raucous laughter.

Jason.

Whizzer hadn't realized how badly he had missed the kid until the first time he went to Trina and Mendel's for dinner, about a week after the baseball game. He had rung the doorbell, strangely nervous to be seeing them all at once, nervous that he would upset their balance and fuck everything up again.

Trina had answered the door, but could barely say hello before Jason hurtled across the living room, embracing Whizzer in the tightest hug his skinny arms could manage.

"Whizzer!" Jason cried, and the man in question wondered if the kid had thought he wouldn't show.

"Hey buddy!" he had lifted him off the ground and, laughing, swung him around in a delighted circle.

He was thoroughly surprised at the welcome, having expected a long road back to their previous friendship. But it looked like the boy wasn't the only one who had been missed, and the thought warmed Whizzer, who set a giggling Jason back on his feet.

"Oh my god, kid. You're getting so tall, I won't be able to pick you up anymore!"

The boy looked aghast at the suggestion, which Whizzer could only laugh at.

\+ + +

Whizzer takes over the responsibility of schlepping Jason to baseball games almost immediately. Being the most athletically-inclined and least likely to maul an umpire, it suits him well. Cordelia comes along, and Charlotte too, when she isn't busy at the hospital. They chatter animatedly all nine innings, Charlotte contesting every foul ball and Cordelia heckling the other teams' stupid uniforms.

Delia and Whizzer take Jason for ice cream afterwards (another advantage they have over Marvin and Trina). Delia and the boy have similar tastes, almost always choosing cookie dough or chocolate fudge or a mix of the two. Whizzer is more of a gelato man, and prefers the fruity flavours, which Jason finds endlessly hilarious. After one of his games, an April game that they win by a landslide (to the sounds of manic hollering, courtesy of Delia and Whizzer), Jason waves them down from the stands.

"Hey guys," he starts nervously, leaning over the rail. "Is it alright if I bring some friends to get ice cream with us?"

An incredulous pause. "Wh -- ?" Whizzer is at a loss. "I mean -- of course! Yes! As many as you want!" he exclaims, all aglow.

Jason beams, and scampers back to his team's dugout.

Delia and Whizzer turn to each other in stunned silence.

"Did he just...?" Delia starts, pointing to where Jason had just stood.

Whizzer nods dumbly. "I think he did."

"Oh my god!" she throws her arms around Whizzer. "Jason made friends!"

"Jason made friends!" he repeats, hugging his own best friend tightly.

"Maybe they'll be lifelong pals," she muses.

Whizzer smiles into the crook of her neck. "Just like us."

The sound of a boy clearing his throat.

"Uh... guys?" Jason hovers nearby, surrounded by three of his alleged friends, confusion etched onto all of their faces.

Delia and Whizzer separate quickly, introducing themselves with _way_ too much enthusiasm to the startled boys. Ten seconds and they've already embarrassed Jason. He sighs. _Sounds about right._

The kids are mostly quiet types: comic-book fans, boys who watch bugs under magnifying glasses. Exactly Jason's crowd. They ask if Whiz and Delia are married, to which the two answer laughingly but emphatically _no_. The boys take this as permission to flirt with Delia in that innocent, 12-year-old way, bragging about their expansive collection of Pokemon cards and the fact that one of the boys is the second-fastest kid in sixth grade. She takes it all very politely, while Jason attacks his ice cream, wishing they would talk about literally _anything_ else.

Whizzer just shakes his head and gives Jason's hair a ruffle, delighted by it all.

 

\+ + + 

 

Whizzer is curled in his and Marvin's bed, flipping through an old copy of _Elle_ , distaste clear on his face. Some of the photos are so uninspired, so _flat_ , that he curses himself for lacking the focus to make himself a real fashion photographer. His polaroids of Marvin are more carefully composed than some of this drivel. Even worse, this issue predicted fucking _gingham_ to be one of spring's hottest trends, which Whizzer had known would flop from the start. Who in their right mind would want to dress like an extra from  _Little House on the Prairie_? He's ready to set the publication on fire when a timid knock pulls him out of his fury.

Jason stands in the doorway, wringing his hands.

"Oh! Hey kiddo! I didn't hear you come in."

He toes the threshold uncertainly, staying silent.

"Your dad behind you?"

"No, he's still out getting dinner."

"Well, don't be a stranger!" he pats the bed, inviting Jason in. "You okay, buddy? You look a little red." Whizzer hears the domesticity in his voice, and where a younger version of himself would pull away, the new Whizzer pushes on. "Do you have a fever?" he presses the back of his hand to Jason's forehead. "You seem a little warm."

"No, it's not that, Whiz. I'm fine," he says, looking sheepishly at his hands. "I just... I need some advice."

"Oh! All righty then. Shoot." He discards the offending magazine.

"Promise you won't tell my dad?" the kid looks so nervous Whizzer almost feels bad for him.

"My lips are sealed."

"He's just weird about this stuff."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Whizzer scoffs. "Now out with it!"

Jason looks around the room as if for escape, and Whizzer starts to feel a touch of concern.

"So," he begins, heavily. "I have a crush on this girl -- " Whizzer's eyebrows jump practically to his hairline. "And I have no idea what to do!" he groans, throwing himself against the pillows.

"A crush on a girl? Wow." Whizzer considers this. "I can't say I can relate --" Jason rolls his eyes, "-- but go on. Who is she?"

"Heather," Jason answers, his voice going all dreamy. "Heather Levin. She's in my class and she plays soccer, and she has really shiny hair, and she reads comics which is crazy because I didn't know that girls could like comics," he rambles, burying his head in the pillow, and Whizzer rests a comforting hand against his shoulder. "I feel all -- all hot when she's around me. It's so weird!" the words come, muffled and ashamed, from the depths of the pillows.

Whizzer laughs.

"Oh my god! Whizzer!" Jason turns to look at the face of Judas himself.

"No, no, no! I'm not laughing at _you_! It's just sweet."

" _Sweet_?" Jason looks ready to vomit.

"Yes. Very sweet. And that's a good thing. Also: come on, man. Girls can totally like comics."

"Whatever! The point is that she's ruining my whole life, Whizzer! And I don't know what to do!"

"Alright, slow down. She's definitely not ruining your _whole_ life," he says soothingly. "But I understand the feeling. I liked lots of boys at school before I even understood why, and it always felt like the end of the world. And, I mean, obviously those crushes never really worked out..."

"I'm sorry," Jason says. And he means it. He's always had a soft spot for that part of Whizzer's life, ever since he overheard him and Marvin talking about the asshole dad that threw him out and the high school bullies that called him ugly names. It always made Jason sad to think about. And confused, since how could anyone hate Whizzer?

"Ah, that's okay," he waves a hand dismissively, "I ended up with your dad, so it all turned out like it was supposed to, right? Anyway, enough about me! More about this Heather Melvin girl."

"Levin," he corrects.

"Levin. Right," he says. "You know, Jason, I think you should just man up and tell her how you feel."

"Are you totally _insane?_ " Jason shrieks. "She's the prettiest girl in the whole grade, and that's even with her glasses!" he explains with increasing despair. "She'd laugh right in my face."

"Hey!" Whizzer smacks him admonishingly on the arm. "Don't say that! You're a catch!"

Jason groans. "It doesn't matter, anyway. She probably likes Hunter."

" _Hunter?_ Who the hell is _Hunter_?" Whizzer makes offended air quotes around the name. 

"He's really good at soccer, just like Heather is."

"Ugh, he sounds like a dick."

"Yeah, he kind of is." Jason doesn't mince words. "But do you think I should play soccer, too? Do you think that would impress her?"

"No!" Whizzer exclaims. "Soccer is such a lame sport, and you should _never_ change who you are for someone else."

"You're just saying that." Jason crosses his arms.

"I am _not_ just saying that! But also, you're not very good at soccer, so I can't imagine that going over well." Whizzer doesn't mince words either. Maybe that's why they get along so seamlessly. Jason nods along with this assessment, a twelve-year-old realist if ever there was one. "That said, you're a very funny kid, and _way_ too smart for your age. And has she seen your Walkman? Or your chess skills? Tell me, what little lady wouldn't swoon for that?"

Jason is still embarrassed, but concealing a smile now. "Yeah, I guess."

"And if she doesn't like you, that's her loss," Whizzer says firmly. "You're a great kid, just the way you are. And you don't need some Heather Eleven --"

"Levin."

"Whatever! You don't need some Heather girl to make you happy. Just be yourself, okay?" he eyes Jason meaningfully. "That's all you can do in this life." He sighs. "Believe me. I would know."

Jason thinks on this for a moment, and on how to properly respond to such a speech. Unable to find the words, he settles on a grateful hug. "You really believe that?" he asks against Whizzer's chest.

Whizzer pulls his arms gently around him. "I really do."

Jason smiles. "Thanks dad, I --" he stops cold, recoils from the word as well as the hug. "Oh my gosh! I'm sorry, Whizzer! I'm so sorry. It just slipped ou --" he stops himself again when he sees Whizzer's face. A mixture of shock and confusion that's just a touch weepy.

A terrible feeling comes over the boy. "Oh, no," he frets. "Did I make you sad?"

"No, no!" Whizzer exclaims, laughing now. "Not at all. I just... don't know what to say." He smiles, wipes away a tear before it has a chance to fall and make everything even weirder.

"Yeah," Jason nods. "Me neither. This is... pretty awkward."

Whizzer laughs aloud at the kid's bluntness (one of their best shared qualities). "Come here." He opens his arms again and Jason practically curls into his lap. The hug is overly tight, but for once Jason doesn't mind, feeling protected rather than smothered.

"I love you, Whizzer," he says, looking up at what he supposes is his... third dad? It's getting hard to keep track in this family, but he's thankful for each one.

Whizzer's heart swells, and he pushes the hair from Jason's eyes. "I love you too, kid." He plants a kiss on the crown of his head. "And I am so, so proud of the little man you're becoming."

Neither of them hear the front door open, or Marvin pad towards their room. Marvin, who stands now in the half-open doorway, Chinese take-out hanging from one hand, half-sure what he's seeing before him is a mirage.

He clears his throat, calling both of them to attention. "So, uh, which one of you wanted the sweet and sour again?"

"Dad!" Jason jerks and scampers off the bed. 

"I'm so sorry to interrupt," he continues nonchalantly, "but the food's getting cold." He's unable to stop smiling at the beautiful sight, and now at Jason's silly, misplaced embarrassment.

"Well, thank god. I'm starved," Whizzer complains, and taps Jason on the shoulder. "Come on, kid, time to eat."

 

\+ + +

 

"That was really sweet back there," Marvin whispers to Whizzer as they gather plates for dinner, as well as forks for everyone but Whizzer, the only one proficient with chopsticks.

"I know!" He replies, struggling to keep quiet from his elation. "I swear I was this close to crying. And, oh my god," he drops his voice even lower, "you know he called me dad by accident?"

Marvin nearly drops the forks. "You're joking."

"I am not."

"That's incredible."

"I know! He was all embarrassed about it though, so don't bring it up, alright?"

"Noted," he replies, then: "So, does that mean he's gonna be calling you dad from now on?"

"I don't think so," Whizzer shrugs. "He was pretty shaken up about it. But we'll figure it out."

Marvin shakes his head a little, watching Whizzer retrieve some glasses from the cupboard, and behind him, Jason bopping along to the music from his new Walkman. He takes Whizzer's hands and pulls him into a kiss. A sweet kiss, one that thanks him. For everything.

" _Guys_!" Jason calls, pulling out his headphones. "Get a room!"

Whizzer rolls his eyes, pulling away but keeping a hand on Marvin's waist. "This _is_ our room, kiddo."

"Gross!"

Marvin laughs, "C'mon. Dinner is served."

They eat on the couch because Jason loves it and they want him to have as much fun as possible every weekend they have him. Whizzer eats Shanghai noodles and orange chicken, because his palate is relatively unadventurous. Marvin, meanwhile, can handle the spicier dishes, while Jason is a stalwart fan of beef-fried rice.

They listen to Jason rave about the Walkman, hands-down his favourite Hanukkah gift, and how everyone at school is so jealous of it.

Whizzer pokes Marvin with a chopstick. " _You see_?" he mouths. The gift had been his idea. Marvin had protested, saying that it was a stupid fad and would go unused. Whizzer smiles victoriously at him, _I told you so_ written plain on his face.

Jason shows them his cassettes. Queen and Fleetwood Mac and all the rest of his favourite bands.

"Kid's got good taste," Whizzer murmurs, admiring the collection.

Marvin leans in close while Jason keeps chattering, oblivious, and whispers, "He is _our_ son, after all."

Whizzer smiles from ear to ear, and shakes his head, still unable to believe any of it.

They fall sleep piled on the couch, stomachs full of MSG, Whizzer's head in Marvin's lap, and Marvin's arm curled protectively around Jason. Outside, the hum of the city is a nice lullaby.

Jason is the first to wake up. His neck lies at an awkward angle, rousing him around 1 a.m. and leaving him more than a little disoriented. Once his eyes adjust to the dim lamplight he extracts himself from Marvin's grip and, suddenly inspired, pads silently to the bedroom, rummaging in a drawer until he finds Whizzer's most treasured possession: a blue polaroid camera.

He comes back into the living room and positions himself at what he hopes Whizzer would consider a good angle. He wishes he had better lighting, but snaps the photo anyway, and waits for it to develop on the coffee table. Once the colours settle, Marvin and Whizzer's figures become clear, albeit a little grainy. Marvin's mouth hangs open goofily, while Whizzer's face is pressed close to his neck. Jason grabs a sharpie from the kitchen counter, scrawls the date across the bottom of the photo, then considers what to write as a caption. After careful deliberation he settles on the first, most obvious thought that sprung to mind, but also the most apt: 

_The world's best dads._  

**Author's Note:**

> thank u as always for reading!!! <333 love y'all & i hope u enjoyed


End file.
